


Too Many Doses and I’m Starting to Get an Attraction

by Thorin Odinson (jadestarboo)



Category: Ollie Klublershturf vs. The Nazis
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nazis, Not Beta Read, Rape/Non-con References, Rare Fandoms, Terrible porn writing, Welcome to the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadestarboo/pseuds/Thorin%20Odinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing holding back Chad from killing Barry himself - is the fact that's he's in love with the man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Doses and I’m Starting to Get an Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT:** NOW WITH FANART! :D Dear guest drew [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb3xrbOe2B1rhl8c4o1_1280.jpg) for me! Check it out, it's freaking gorgeous. :D
> 
> 70% porn, 30% not porn. This fandom does not exist. I checked. :(
> 
> But if you're reading this, seriously, how did you find this? You're amazing, that's why. Because you know that Chris Hemsworth and Norman Reedus would make a cute couple. Here's a link to the [movie](http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/d8f611b770/ollie-klublershturf-vs-the-nazis) if you have not been enlightened yet. (Only 10 minutes long)
> 
> This is the first fic that I've completed in my life that's not a short one-shot. And what does it so happen to be? In a fandom that is obsolete. :> This isn't my best work, I was just trying my hand at porn, and wow. It's not that great. Basically, a practice fic, hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> In this fic, Chris Hemsworth's character, Chad, is 24 and Norman Reedus' character, Barry, is 39.

One of the worst missions Chad’s experienced was when his partner, Barry, almost died.

He remembers the day in Brazil, it was their first mission out of country, and he was knocked out by a butt of a gun. The last thing he saw was Barry being dragged away by men with rifles slung over their shoulders and thrown into a van, cursing. They found him five days later, tied to a chair in the middle of a sullied warehouse, beaten within an inch of his life, with broken ribs, all his fingers snapped, and his back whipped to torn flesh. It was more like Chad who found him and he never let go of Barry’s hand as they rushed back to base.

Ever since that day, Chad has a feeling he’s becoming more and more delirious as each mission passes by and their lives are becoming more and more in danger. There is never a time anymore that he can remember, where it would be just a day of peace and quiet, no exploding cars, or gun fights, or jumping off bridges into speedboats just for a suitcase full of god-knows-what that the Nazis demanded them to retrieve. The worst part is that Barry is becoming wilder as each mission passes by, his sense of danger is skewing and he’s not paying attention to anything around him anymore.

Just like right now.

A gigantic man, carrying an extra fifty pounds heavier and a whole foot taller than Barry, is currently sprinting towards him with a machete capable of killing a humpback whale. And Barry, goddamn smart but infuriating Barry, doesn’t see him. He’s too busy trying to break open the lock on the door with a pair of pliers.

He’s pretty sure he’s yelled his loudest at Barry, but the older man still has his pink, wet tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he jiggles at the lock. Chad has a second to think before his body moves on its own and dives straight at the large man.

They tumble as his shoulder collides harshly against the larger man’s stomach, gravity throwing them against the brick wall next to where Barry is currently crouched. If Barry couldn’t see or hear that, then it’s probably time for him to get his ears and eyesight checked. The horn-rimmed glasses he wears probably needs a change of prescription and he’ll need to get a pair of hearing aids.

Luckily, Barry seems to have heard the noise as he jumps up in surprise and drops the pliers. He pulls out the pistol tucked in his red jacket, aiming at the two men rolling around the ground, one trying to stab the other to death, and the other trying to avoid that result.

“Stop moving, Chad, I can’t get a clear shot,” Barry says, his pistol trying to train at the man with the machete, but it ends up becoming frantic movements of his arms. After thirty-seconds he lets out a frustrated groan, and drops his arms, “Fucking hell, can’t you stay still!”

It’s kind of hard to do that if the other man is stronger in every way and determined to slit your throat.

“Jesus Christ, Barry, I don’t care-” Chad begins to say, but gets cut off as the man makes an attempt to slice off a chunk of his forehead, Chad rolls over and pins the man down, “I don’t care if you take my ear out shooting this guy, but whatever you shoot is a hell of a lot better than having my throat sliced by his _fucking_ giant machete!”

Their position switched and the man is straddling his chest, crushing his air supply. He lifts his arm and makes an attempt to stab his throat, but Chad barely catches his wrist with both hands, stopping the attack as it almost succeeded in doing so.

Adrenaline surges through his body, his sense heightened and his blood pumping through his veins, as they both struggle for dominance. Unfortunately the strength of the larger man is overpowering him, and the machete is inching even closer to his face. He shifts his eyes where it is focused on the machete and instead focuses on Barry’s black dress shoes and the edge of his khakis.

“Barry. I swear,” he seethes through clenched teeth; he’s putting all his strength against the other man, and his arms are giving out, “If you don’t shoot now and I survive this, I’m going to shoot you in the face. Multiple times.”

A gunshot fires and the case of a bullet ricochets off the other man’s bald head, while, as if in slow motion, his face contorts to something of pain. Chad takes this moment of weakness and yanks the knife from the man’s hands, switching their positions one more time and thrusting the blade under his throat.

Judging by the blood soaking in his shoes, the man was shot somewhere in the nether regions. He’s screaming in anguish, “Fucking hell, you shot my fucking nuts. Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

A laugh rips through Chad’s throat before he can stop it and the blade nudges a thin cut under the man’s chin. The man continues to scream as Barry cautiously steps over to where they are, his gun still trained.

“Do you want to finish him off?” Barry asks quietly, his eyes dart towards Chad for the briefest of seconds.

“No. Base would probably need him for information or something. Let’s knock him out and have base send over a couple of guys to pick him up.”

Barry snorts at that before Chad smirks at the man and slams the butt of the machete into the man’s head so hard a crack can be heard, and sending him into oblivion.

\--

\--

By the time they’re at a motel, a lot of things had gone wrong. Barry almost got himself killed about ten times already and he’s getting less worried about it. Chad swears he’s about to have an aneurysm. Every time he’s saving Barry’s ass, he’s getting himself nearly killed.

Sitting on the bed, shirtless, Chad inspects the damage done to his body as a result of saving his partner. It’s not as bad as he thought, but still as worse as Barry’s split lip and lightly bruised cheek. There is a large, deep cut in his bicep from another knife attack; a lightly scrapped up right leg and temple from diving head first into gravel; and his lip is cut.

At the current moment, he’s not sure if he’s angry at Barry or just glad that he’s still alive.

The mixed feelings are squashed as soon as they erupt within him when Barry settles down on the bed next to him and gently prods his injuries. His calloused hands brush against his temple almost intimately. Chad takes in a sharp breath as the pain flares up even underneath the light touches. Barry laughs lightly and continues to inspect him, his jacket making little crinkling noises as he leans down and runs two fingers across his clothed leg.

His fingers come back up, trailing lightly across the side of his body, dancing across his ribs and up his arm to the deepest cut. Chad turns his head to look at the older man.

With only the dim light of the lamp on the bedside turned on, the neon glow reflecting through the window, and the moon large and bright, he studies Barry’s profile. The soft orange lighting casts softly across his features, the bright beams of light intricately pushed through the broken blinds.

Barry is by no means the most attractive man on the planet, and he’s not the drop-dead gorgeous kind, or the sexy bombshell, but he’s got this distinguished quality where it takes a while to know him to see how fucking stunning he is.

No full lips or big eyes. He’s got thin lips, but they’re curvy in a feminine way and a mole in the corner that adds to the appeal. His barely-there goatee gives him the masculinity in his face. His eyes are small, but cat-like, added sharpness thanks to the thin and shapely eyebrows. There are bags under his eyes and they’re more prominent with the natural lines running underneath them, although the horn-rimmed glasses he wears on some occasions and during infiltration missions, usually gets in the way of seeing them. His hair is a mix of blonde and dark brown, usually a short boyish cut with bangs, but for today’s mission he slicked it to the side with gel.

Claiming, as always, that it’s his “good boy” get-up, even though that’s nothing close to what he really is.

Their eyes meet and Barry’s smirk is still lingering on his lips. Whether he caught Chad’s scrutiny, he doesn’t comment on it. “Here, I’ll get you patched up. You’re scrapped up pretty bad. And I don’t want you going off and treating yourself, you might end up stabbing yourself with medical scissors.”

The bed squeaks as Barry gets up and goes into the bathroom, pulling out the first aid in one of their duffle bags sitting on the sink counter. He comes back with the white box in his hands, and reoccupies his seat.

After disinfecting Chad’s wounds, he clinically bandages up his leg and then folds a piece of gauze over his right temple, taping it down with medical tape. They’ve done this before; it’s in their line of work.

“Hold still, I’m going to stitch up your arm now. If you don’t want to lose it, then don’t move,” he says and takes out a sewing needle, threading a suture thread through the eye.

“Should I trust you to do this?” Chad asks mostly out of humor. Yet, the brief glance from Barry says that he’s hearing a lot more.

Usually Chad would trust him, but tonight there’s something else in the air. No, he’s not trying to quote a Disney song, but it’s sparking in his fingertips. The snarkiness that usually comes equipped with Barry is absent, and instead he’s quietly disinfecting the gash. Chad hisses at the burn.

At this time, or any time at all, Barry would usually make sarcastic and mocking remarks, like calling him ‘boy’ or poke at his horrible aim when it comes to firearms. Chad would usually banter back or just tell him to fuck off.

“Here, take these, you’ll need it,” Barry says and a bottle of painkillers appear in front of him.

“How much?”

“Overdose on it for all I care, ‘cause this _will_ hurt like a bitch.”

Chad pops in three of them, making his brain fuzzy and body numb.

“Can you feel that?” Barry suddenly asks sometime later.

“Feel what?”

“That’s a good response.”

Then there’s nothing but silence. Chad doesn’t know what to do around Barry for once in his life. It shouldn’t be uncomfortable, but he can’t help but fidget a little in his seat. They’ve done this before, it was nothing new. They looked after each other countless times after various missions and bandaged each other wounds. But tonight…

“Stop it. Jesus. You’re screwing me up here,” Barry says from the side and pauses in his stitching.

Chad sighs and resorts to staring at the wall in front of him. The wall is an off-shade of green that reminds him of green tea, the after contents of it. There is a crack leading up to the ceiling, and he follows it with his eyes.

The thread continues to travel through his skin. And Chad thinks that Barry’s getting under his skin in more ways than one. When Barry leans in to see better, his breath falls gently on Chad’s skin, the tiny hairs standing up on its ends.  

(He remembers Morocco where Barry was hunched over him, in the sun, sweat sticky on their skin and their t-shirts forgotten. There was a bomb that needed to be disarmed while the other Nazi teams were continuing the mission to retrieve a captured informant. In the middle of the desert, thirsty and almost on the brink of hallucination, Chad felt lightheaded. The wire cutters were slippery in his hands and his heart hammers in his chest as Barry whispers which wire to cut, breath sweet and hot. Heat was digging into his pores, and Barry’s breathing was digging even deeper.)

Yep. More ways than one.

\--

\--

Time passes by, and Chad’s getting worked up from light brushes from Barry’s fingers as he continues to stitch as slow as possible. Barry would say that he’s trying to avoid making any mistakes, and if Chad didn’t know him any better, he would’ve called it bullshit. But it’s true; Barry likes to get things done by the book. He’s anal and he’s OCD in every manner.

However, Chad doesn’t do slow, and his skin is starting to burn, itch for movement. The delicate touches and the warm breath on his skin are too much.

Not to mention he’s in pain, the painkillers Barry ordered him to take are wearing off. He’s beginning to feel the cool touch of the needle and the puncture through his skin. He can feel the nylon thread running through the small hole, like his blood running through his veins. And he especially feels the dull pain from the gash as it tries to close itself.

He needs to move, take a shower, and go to bed before he’s going to go insane and rip his own skin off.

“You almost done?” Chad asks, not attempting to mask the strong discomfort in his voice.

“Almost. About five more minutes,” Barry replies calmly.

Waiting for five minutes is like waiting for the police to barge in and arrest them. Five minutes of waiting is like a lifetime wasted. He feels his skin tingle and by the time Barry snips the thread and put away the supplies, his skin is on fire.

Barry leans forward and pushes gently down on his finished stitch; he’s not looking at Chad when he speaks again.

“Looks pretty good. Don’t move so much or it’ll open again,” he pauses and makes a disapproving sound, probably because he was a millimeter off in one of the stitches, “Why you’re in such a rush, anyways? You don’t have anywhere you need to be.”

Burning with heat, and Barry’s still touching him, Chad can feel rage building within him. His newly stitched arm is throbbing with pain, and he feels his pulse beating beneath his skin.

Later on, if Chad reflected back, he would say it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the fact that Barry’s carelessness and disregard for safety might have finally snapped something within him. In a frenzy, he shoves Barry forcibly away from his arm, standing up from the bed in rampant anger.

Briefly, Barry cringes, leaning away with him with a small jolt of his body.

Normally he would feel bad for losing his temper, cause deep down he’s truly a nice guy. But not at this moment, he’s holding no regrets and he’s never felt so wild.

“Well fuck, maybe cause you were taking so long, and I’m fucking tired, and I just want to take a really hot shower and go to bed,” Chad snaps, and he would’ve stopped there in his pre-guilt trip, but the fire running under his skin is getting to his head. “And you know what? Your OCD pisses me off, you’re always taking your time, and I’m always saving your ass. Do you know why I feel like _shit_? Because of you. Because your fucking carelessness is going to get you killed, and you can’t even see that!

“What the hell, man,” Barry retorts offended, looking up at him with a bewildered expression. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I stitched you up as careful as possible, just like any good doctor would, and you’re getting bitchy about it. And you know me as well as anyone else in the Nazis, we’ve been partners for a year, more than anyone else, you _know_ that I have to take my time to do things! It’s just who I am! And I didn’t ask to be saved; you did it on your own, I can look out for myself! Fuck you.”

For a split second, Chad’s vision goes red. Heat travels from his skin to his head as he watches Barry scoff and shake his head before moving to stand up.

Chad doesn’t know what possessed him, but before he knows it, he’s grabbing the older man by the arms, lifting him up from the bed completely. He’s never known Barry to be a small man, but at this moment, Chad’s hands almost wrap around the other man’s biceps, and he’s towering over him. He’s larger than him, both height and body wise, and Barry has no escape.

The feeling must have been mutual, because the moment Barry realizes this, his mouth parts slightly and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Chad feels his cock starting to harden at the sudden revelation, the sight of perfect Barry being caught off guard, and his size-advantage over the smaller man.

Growling, he roughly throws Barry onto the bed, the impact causing him to bounce slightly, and before Barry could scramble away, he swiftly climbs on top of him, caging him under his body, boxed in by his arms.

Somewhere at the foot of the bed, the medical box falls off the edge and crashes to the ground from the movement, the cheap tin metal ringing, muted against the carpet.

Barry’s chest is rising up and down rapidly underneath the blue dress shirt and loose red tie, he’s panting in anticipation, looking up at him with wide eyes. Chad can hear his own breath, harsh in the silence. It’s a split second before he pitches forward, covering his mouth over Barry’s, kissing him harshly, open mouthed and wet. He slips his tongue in, tangling with Barry’s, and licking the soft insides of his cheek, moving down deeper-

“What the fuck! Fuck!” Chad cries and pulls back, his hand flying to his mouth and touches his tongue, pulling back to see red on the pads of his fingers. “Jesus Christ! You _bit_ me. What’d you do that for?”

When he looks down at the older man, he’s smirking, a lewd turn of his curvy lips, stained with a little bit of blood. Barry sits up, steadying himself on his elbows. His red jacket slips from his shoulders and bunches up near his elbows; he lowers his eyelids and tilts his head forward.

“That’s what you get for being an ungrateful bitch.” Barry says, and if it weren’t for the filthy smile, Chad would’ve thought he was serious.

At this moment, he could grab his own jacket and storm out of the motel room to find someone less infuriating to fuck. But with Barry so close to his face, his breath heavy and sweet, his slanted eyes hooded and so blue, and his lips brushing against his, softly, with a promise of many dirty possibilities, he decides that as frustrating as Barry can be, he’s not going to have a chance like this ever again, and he’s going to take advantage of it.

After months of lusting after his instructor, only to be led to think that he had no interest in him whatsoever, this moment almost seems surreal. The tactics he used to try to woo the older man ranged from advice from women to spam emails he receives in his junk mail. Though as many smiles as he smiled, muscles he flexed, and times he saved his life, it all seemed to come down to nothing.

Until now, this moment.

Silence at a time like this, however, where the sexual tension is high, is not usually a good thing. Chad lets out a breathy laugh, ducking his head, shaking it as if in disbelief.

“Goddamn it, Barry. If you’re just screwing with me, I will lock myself in the bathroom and jack off to the sound of _your breathing_. And then I will cry afterwards. I will cry like a motherfucking baby.” Chad says, on the edge of going crazy, and lifts his head back up. Barry’s looking at him like he _is_ mental.

“Chad, that’s really killing my boner.”

“Well,” Chad says, smiling and presses a little kiss before dropping to a whisper, “I think I can fix that for you.”

“Well, you better try harder, and faster,” Barry says lewdly and strips away the jacket, “I haven’t gotten laid in like, forever, and I’ve been waiting for this moment. I hope you got it in you, cause I’m expecting a lot from you.”

(He remembers the time when an undercover mission had gone wrong in France and they were under fire. It might have been five men, or ten, but it didn’t matter, they were outnumbered. They huddled together behind a barricade of crates filled with costume and props for the circus. After every shot, a puff of feathers would explode and drift down accompanied by glitter. Barry’s used up all his ammo for his auto-shotgun and is shooting out of his melee pistol. Chad still has a few rounds left in his rifle. A bullet whizzed past his face and he barely ducked in time. Barry chuckles and Chad hears the _click_ of an empty compartment. He looks over, and Barry’s staring at his pistol, loose in his hand, his eyelashes and cheeks sprinkled in gold, and his hair covered in soft feathers. Chad’s heart clenches and he grips his heavy rifle tighter. Barry looks up as he says, ‘I’m outta ammo. I hope you got it in you, cause I’m expecting a miracle right now.)

Barry licks his lower lip, catching the blood, before closing the gap between them, crushing their lips in a forceful kiss. He responds, slowly at first, feeling the wetness of his lips where he was licking just now, the softness and the rough scratches of his light facial hair. The kiss deepens and Barry lets out a small gasp when Chad licks his bottom lip, and slips his tongue in, exploring the caverns of his mouth again.

Suddenly, his boner went from a ninety degree angle to one-eighty.

Clothes are usually a hindrance, and needing to feel naked skin, Chad lets out an irritated noise as he unravels the tie around Barry’s neck, tossing it off to the corner somewhere.

Barry’s dress shirt, however, is a different story. The buttons are doing nothing to help with getting naked. Chad’s fingers are fumbling over the little bastards, and his frustration must have been expressed out loud, because Barry is _giggling_ at him. He growls in a feral manner and decides, _fuck it_ , and rips the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, exposing a lightly dusted chest, and small dark nipples.

When Chad leans down, he feels the clothed hard cock of the other man pressed against his stomach, and reaches his hands out, thumbing his nipples, teasing it between the pads of his fingers. Barry lets out a dirty little moan, tossing his head back against the pillow.

Immediately, Chad ducks his head and takes a nub into his mouth, while still pinching the other. He licks around it, getting it wet with his saliva, and enjoying the little noises Barry’s trying to hide. Barry struggles out of his ruined shirt as soon as his lips leave his nipple. Moving back up, Chad shoves himself down onto the willing man, pinning him against the bed, grinding their clothed cocks together.

Of course, the pants are another hindrance, and he’s more than happy to get rid of them.

Tugging ruthlessly at the slacks and throwing them in the direction of the tie, Chad immediately slides down and noses at the dark boxer briefs, smelling the musky scent of his erection. The hard cock twitches beneath his tongue as he begins lapping eagerly, soaking the cloth. Barry’s hands fly out and grasp the sides of his head. He mouths the cock, making Barry make fucking _whimpering_ noises and his hips stutter in a weak attempt to thrust up.

“Take it off, Chad. Nghh, please,” he begs.

As small as the noise was, the single word, _please_ , was enough to make Chad stop and look up at the other man. He’s looking back at him, his glasses skewed, and his mouth open, panting. In truth, Chad’s been paying attention to Barry probably more so than he to him. Hearing a please slip from those pretty lips is a rare treat. Barry’s not the kind of man to beg; even if he’s got an illegally obtained AK-47 held to his head, he’s no slave to submission.

Whether or not that’s an exciting revelation to Chad or not, he can’t deny him what he pleads for.

Chad crawls up the man’s body, watching as Barry’s eyes follow his every movement. Even in this scenario his eyes are sharp and calculating. Being a Nazi for so long, especially as long as Barry, it manages to implant its effects into you.

“Chad, Chad, oh Chad,” Barry repeats his name, as he comes face to face with him, while moving his hips, grinding down slowly.

“If I take off your glasses, can you still see?” Chad asks, beginning to breathe heavily. Chuckling, Barry takes off his glasses and sets them aside on the end table.

“How’s that? Is that better? Can you take off my underwear now?”

Wish granted. Chad reaches down and rips off the thin, damp cloth, freeing the erection of the superior officer, letting it slap against his stomach. He sits up; his knees between Barry’s spread legs. Barry follows, leaning on his hands, and reaching out with one to unbuckle his belt. The clanging sound of the metals bumping against each other as Barry drags it through the belt loops of his pants. Chad groans in appreciation when he feels his trousers being unbuttoned and his zipper pulled down freeing his aching cock.

“Fucking hell,” Barry whispers, staring at the monster of a meat, then glances up at Chad, “Your cock is huge.”

Before he manages to throw back some kind of snarky response, Barry takes his prick in his hand and in a flash, bends his head down, licking a wet path under his cock. He laps at it like a cat, fast and little licks, so shy and yet firm. Chad makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat as Barry flattens his tongue and runs a long, slow lick from the base to the tip.

Just as he was about to vocally express his complaint; Barry wraps his lips around the tip. His tongue comes out and teases the vein running under his cock, rubbing it up and down. It retreats, and then he hollows his cheeks and _sucks_. His hand is loosely jacking Chad off, as he takes more of his cock into his warm mouth. It’s a perfect rhythm as he begins to suck him properly, up and down his shaft, his tongue doing some amazing shit all the while.

The sight of Barry bobbing his head between his legs was just so damn sexy, that he grabs onto his hair and _shoves_ him down as far down before Barry whimpers and chokes.

Some saliva trickles down the corners of his mouth, and runs down his chin, making his mouth wetter than before. He makes a desperate noise and Chad releases his now disheveled hair, and Barry breaks free, gasping for air. Chad opens his mouth to ask if he was okay or if that was too much, because to be honest, he knows he can get a little impatient and rough.

Usually if he treats a woman too rough, his good Texan manners would kick in, despite her protests for him to be domineering, and soften the sex. He’s never felt the need to be rough, but this time he can’t deny the surge of excitement igniting through his body at the prospect of being aggressive with Barry.

He supposes it’s because he _knows_ Barry can handle the violent treatment; there’s nothing that speaks abuse than being a superior officer for the sadistic Nazis. And judging from the mind-blowing oral skills he displaying, there’s no doubt he’s done ‘rough’ before.

Barry wipes at the spit, and then takes Chad into his mouth again before he could say anything, but a gasp of surprise. This time Barry’s looking up at him, through wet lashes, his red lips stretched perfectly around his fat cock, looking so full and perfect. He’s a sight to behold.

Apparently the stunt Chad pulled earlier didn’t discourage or enrage him, he instead moans wantonly around his cock before  - _holy shit_ – Chad almost loses it, because he didn’t expect him to begin deep-throating him like a pro. He can feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of Barry’s throat. It’s so tight and welcoming, Chad begins thrusting into him. Barry can’t stop moaning, the vibrations creating the most delicious sensation.

Moments later, Barry tilts his head, causing the head of his cock to stuff itself into his inner cheek. Slipping an appreciative groan, Chad reaches down and thumbs at the bump his cock created. He’s going to come soon if Barry doesn’t pull off and offer his ass instead.

Seemingly telepathically, Barry smirks and chuckles a little, which comes out as a weird series of breaths as his mouth is currently occupied with his dick.  

He growls viciously as he grabs onto Barry’s hair and rips him off his cock with a wet, slick _pop_ , a string of saliva connecting his dick to Barry’s bottom lip. His mouth is even redder than before, the rough treatment creating a plumpness that wasn’t there before. He runs a thumb on the plush, moist lip covered in pre-come and spit.

Chuckling, Barry opens his mouth wide before slipping Chad’s thumb into his mouth, sucking it obscenely and making more wanton noises. His eyelashes are wet as he looks up at him in the purest expression he can muster while doing his unclean act.

“Jesus Barry, you’re such a fucking _slut_.”

It slips out before he could stop it. Once again, his Texan manners was about to jump in and rescue his morality (and once again his brain is enjoying it too much), except Barry seems to have none of that.

Opening his mouth and letting Chad’s thumb slide out, Barry huffs out a laugh, an almost sheepish sound. “Yeah, I admit it; I can be a whore sometimes. Does it turn you off? Do you not like it? Do you want me to be a good boy and act like a virgin?”

As much as Chad hated the thought of it, his body was disagreeing with him.

“No. Fuck no, I’m going to fuck you the way you are. And if you’re a whore, then I’m going to fuck you like the whore you are,” Chad growls and shoves Barry back down onto the bed, where he laughs out loud in an enthusiastic whoop.

They clash mouths and he shoves his tongue down Barry’s throat. He bites in return, before licking at the sting on his lip. When he pulls back, Barry’s panting and grinning like he’s at a candy store.

(He remembers summer in Taiwan; they had outrun a couple of angry Triad members by winding through the busy streets. The tropical weather was causing Barry to sweat more than usual, soaking through his t-shirt and dampening his hair. Chad wasn’t any better. Let it be known, the only times Barry is good at negotiating is when he really wants something. After traveling from the city to the rural countryside, to put some distance between them and their pursuers, Barry began to complain. So they stop by a small open candy shop at his demands. Chad would have never figured it was something to get unhealthily excited about. While he got a bag of rice candy, Barry opted for a large red lollipop. It was cherry flavored, and he proceeded to suck it in the dirtiest way that borderlines porn. Also not to mention he was moaning his delight audibly and even caused a close-by Italian tourist to stare on in obvious lust, he was probably drooling a little too. Then again, Chad wasn’t any better.)

“That’s what I was waiting for, you prick. All this time,” Barry’s smile turning languid, leaning back and sinking his head slowly into the pillow, his eyes still trained on him.

Swallowing down whatever moisture left in his mouth to soothe his suddenly dry throat, Chad is almost at lost for words. His mind is at battles between booking it out of the room to clear his mind, and sinking into the invitation that is Barry’s body, because it’s coming to him all at once.

This isn’t just any guy, it isn’t just some random hooker he’s picked up, or a fellow hot co-worker chick. This isn’t the cheer captain in high school, or the closeted swimmer on the swim team, or the model-potential bisexual lab partner in Biology 111.

This is Barry.

An instructor, a much older man. The man who can woo women with his good-guy act, who can woo men with his sweet teases. The man who can don disguises with a blink of an eye, who can kill with his bare hands. A Nazi for life. A snarky, sarcastic, complex, beautiful man.

And now, in this seedy motel, he’s all Chad’s.

“Barry, when I said that I’m going to fuck you. I mean it,” Chad says lowly, running a hand from his ankle up to his inner thigh, where he caresses the soft skin with the pads of his fingers.

Settling into the bed, Barry moans softly at the touch, spreading his thighs little-by-little. With an encouraging press of his hands resting on his inner thigh, Chad guides his legs further apart. One of his hands sneaks down the crack of Barry’s ass and presses a finger to his opening.

The tight ring of his muscle twitches weakly in response. Looking up with a leer on his face, Chad insistently presses in. Barry gasps, his hips stuttering off from the bed.

Dry anal sex is evidently painful, knowing this Chad brushes his finger against him once more before reaching over to the end table beside Barry’s head. He pulls open the drawer and feels the leather bound bible, before enclosing his hand over the small container of lube.

“Turn off the light, will you?” Barry says.

It’s an order as usual, and Chad snorts, “And that will help, because…?”

“Shut up. I know my shit, and I hear sex is better in the dark, and besides, we’ll save energy.”

There is a good reason why Barry never handles interrogations or reports. Admittedly, he’s more than excellent at handling his firearms, but when it comes to convincing someone to do something, he’s shit. That’s why Chad always does the talking when it comes down to it.

Except if Barry is in a bed, naked, and so damn enticing.

“Fine, whatever you say,” Chad chuckles and switches off the light before settling in his previous spot.

Popping open the cap, he slicks up his fingers. Still holding the tube in his other hand, he reaches down and massages Barry’s hole before digging a finger in. A gasp escapes Barry and he throws his head back, exposing a line of pale neck. His hands fly down to grasp Chad’s wrist, his finger currently fucking him in a slow rhythm.

Vampire-like behavior isn’t usually his thing, yet he couldn’t resist heaving up and latching himself onto his neck and biting down viciously. He’s going to mark Barry his, he’s going to engrave himself into his skin. Animalistic as it is, he can’t help but _feel_ that Barry is his to own.

Blood enters his mouth, and Barry is trashing violently, almost bucking Chad off of him. He’s crying out, in what can only be a fragile line between pain and pleasure. And it grows louder as Chad shoves in two of his fingers, pumping earnestly into the warm entrance. The wetness combined with the friction of the tight hole grips around his fingers.

“Fuck, Chad. Fuck, fuck. Yeah, just like that. Fuck me with your fingers. Mmmm. Give it to me, yeah-,” Barry moans and his hips are canting down onto his fingers. When he opens his fingers, scissoring him, he stops mid-sentence and begins to pant breathlessly, lost for words.

Torment is the only way to describe this scenario, his cock aching jealously at the treatment his fingers are receiving. It’s his breaking point when Barry lifts his legs up, and bends himself in half, a contortion that’s sexy and baffling to Chad at the same time. The sight of the older man gripping his own thighs, and offering the view of his fingers pumping in and out of him is intoxicating.

The tube in his hand is getting slick, not because of the lube, but because of the sweat building up in his palm. He pulls out his fingers, ignoring the whine from Barry, and slathers them with more lube, before tossing it somewhere on the sheets. Rubbing his fingers together, he watches as Barry watches him.

Holding each other’s gaze is an intimacy unknown to others. It may seem like a signal to other Nazi comrades, and to strangers on the street, it looks like a challenge to fight. Both assumptions are close to the truth. It is a signal between them two, and it is a challenge. Except, it’s on a deeper level, where to them, each other is all there is. Words are not needed to express their thoughts, proving to be helpful in dire times of need.

(He remembers it was just like in Chicago, sent on a mission where they were to investigate the sudden disappearance of two officers. Betrayal, of course, and they found themselves held at gun point on their knees in an alleyway in the middle of the night. One of the officers, Anthony, grasped Barry’s chin, running a finger along his lip. Barry’s darted his eyes to the side, catching Chad’s gaze. In a split second, they _knew_. They could see into each other, and the adrenaline pumped through Chad’s system as he pulled out his hidden gun and shot at Anthony, the same time Barry ducks down and knifed the other man’s knees. He proceeded to gut them like pigs as Chad watched on.)

Not breaking his gaze, he shoves his two fingers back into Barry’s willing body and wiggles around before withdrawing. Barry lets out a choked moan and shuts his eyes briefly, severing the connection. He fingers him, pulling out when Barry opens his eyes again and reaches down and tugs at his own cock, getting it slick.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Chad says, his mouth dry like cotton.

“Yes, sir,” Barry replies, impressively.

Dropping his thighs, he turns around and, as Chad instructed (ordered) him to, gets on his hands and knees, almost shoving his pale behind in his face. Being the bastard he is, he wiggles it side-to-side quickly and grins smoldering over his shoulder. Chad smiles back in appreciation before giving a smack to the right cheek.

He digs his thick thumbs into Barry’s ass cheeks, prying them apart, exposing his lube-slick little pink hole. Chad groans, feeling the thighs quiver under the strain of being so roughly handled. He presses his thumb into the hole, watching the muscle clench in defense against the pressure.

Vulnerable, open, and all _his_.

As soon as it came, the fleeting thought passes through him. The sudden urge to _know_ comes crashing down, and he couldn’t stop himself before he slots his body on top of Barry, covering the smaller body with his younger, bulkier form. One of his hands grabs onto Barry’s waist and the other buried in his hair, wrenching his head to face him towards him.

“Look at me.”

Even in the dark, the flecks of blue in his eyes are visible, all flirtation gone and flashing dangerously, as Barry faces him.

“Tell me, I need to know, has anyone seen you like this before? Did you let anyone else touch you like this?” Chad asks lowly, and his fingers increase in pressure, potentially bruising the skin. For some reason jealously sweeps through his being, like the wildfire they caused in Ireland, setting golden barley fields up in flames. “Did you offer your body to anybody like this?”

The resentful inquiries cause the man underneath his hands to become suddenly stiff, his shoulders tensing up, and his knuckles turning white as he digs his fingers into the sheets. Questions fly through Chad’s head, wondering if this was Barry’s breaking point, if he just lost the chance to take him as his own.

Suddenly, Barry’s body becomes lax under his ruthless grip, a movement as smooth as liquid. Relaxed as his posture is, the barricade is still in his eyes. He puts on a lazy smile, sinuous and perilous, “Yes, as a matter of fact, Chad, yes, other men have seen me like this. Whether it’s for profession or pleasure, I do spread my legs and let them fuck me into any surface they throw me on. I’m pretty much a whore, so use me like one,” He pauses, his eyes flickering up and down his face, calculating his pulse, for no reason except that he was trained to do so, “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Chad stares back for a moment. He’s not sure what to think at the moment, his mind muddled with the thought of other men seeing Barry so open and raw. Enraged, he doesn’t gently let go of his grip, but shoves Barry’s face down to the pillow.

Renewed energy propels through his body, sending his heart to a rapid beating, as he holds Barry down by the neck with a single hand. With the other hand, he reaches underneath Barry’s body and hauls his hips up.

It’s a beautiful sight, (even when his mind screams _you’re an animal_ ) his partner on the bed with his ass up high in the air. He occupies the empty ass with his two fingers, relishing as Barry cries out, his spine arching.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? To be handled like a cheap toy?” He asks and twists his fingers, before sliding in another one. Barry moans appreciatively, and Chad can’t help but feel that it was forced.

Somehow it’s now like this, Chad realizes. The scene evolved into a fantasy for them to act out. He’s the rough client, and Barry’s the prostitute he bought, probably in some shady club, or hell, in the streets. There’s no use for feelings or jealousy, because he’s already used himself for others, and Chad’s just one of them.

But, fuck it, if he wants to be treated like a useless body, then Chad will treat him just that.

After all, it’s just a game to Barry, a story, a role play.

“Fuck, you’re my little whore aren’t you? You’re moaning like a slut, begging for my dick to fuck your little asshole, because my fingers aren’t enough for you. Three isn’t enough for you, is it? You fucking _whore_.”

Barry makes a high pitch keening sound hearing that, and Chad lets out a breathless laugh. He slaps Barry’s pale ass, watching his hole clench and loosen up, and continues to thrust them into him, fucking him harshly with three fingers.

“Just put it in me, you fucker,” Barry gasps and simultaneously presses his ass back against his fingers.  
“No, you’ll have to beg me. I won’t fuck you until you beg me,” Chad says coldly and digs his fingers in, twisting them as it brushes the older man’s prostate.

A cry rips from Barry’s throat and he thrusts back against the fingers and Chad’s large palm, kneading his ass.

“Oh Chad, fuck me, please,” he begs, crying out each time the three fingers hit his prostate, “Put your huge cock inside my ass, I want you to fuck me, fuck my tight little ass. I want your fucking cock. Please, please, please.”

Hearing him beg like that almost sickens him, and Chad yanks his fingers out and shoves his hand to Barry’s face.

“Lick it for me, get it nice and wet.”

Barry eagerly sticks his tongue out and licks his palm over and over again, until Chad pulls his hand back and grabs his red, hard cock, using the spit and pre-come to provide minimal lubrication. It will never be enough, but he can’t wait any longer.

Groaning out loud, he finally presses his cock against the inviting little hole. Barry moans noisily like a fucking porn star, and then buries his face into the pillow, muffling the filthy noise, sticking his ass out even more.

There was nothing gentle or smooth when he drives his cock into the small hole, the tightness burning him, enveloping him and not letting go anytime soon.

He fucks into him, watching as the pale expanse of Barry’s behind turn a bright shade of pink where he’s spanked him. Taking a hand, he lets it run from his lower back up to his neck, running his fingers through his coarse hair before putting it back on his hips.

While he’s pounding into Barry’s ass, he slaps him again, feeling his palm sting from the impact on the soft skin. It’s turning red and he grabs his ass, spreading the cheeks to see his huge cock being swallowed by Barry’s tiny, greedy hole. He fucks into him harshly, still holding him open for him to watch.

An idea lands in his head, and he digs in a finger alongside his cock. He wiggles the finger around, feeling the warm walls and his cock leaking, making it wet and so slippery.

“Ah fuck, Barry, you’re so _wet_ for me aren’t you? Like a fucking _woman_.”

The sound that comes from Barry was even better than any porn star in any porno, and he spreads his legs so shamelessly wider. Chad knows he’s just trying to rub his cock against the bed sheets, but he takes this chance to stuff in another finger. The man writhing beneath him wails as Chad opens his fingers in a scissoring motion.

“You like that, don’t you? You’re nothing but a whore for my cock.” He says, and continues to thrust into him while digging his fingers in deeper. The sensation of Barry’s asshole clenching tightly around him and the wetness dribbling out, down his thigh, causes Chad to groan and plunge into him harder.

“Yes, yes, oh god. I’m your slut. Mmm, fuck me, oh god, fuck me like the slut I am. I’m so wet for you,” Barry whines and pushes his ass back. It isn’t much longer until Chad’s going to come, so he pulls his fingers and cock out, and grabs Barry’s waist, flipping him on his back again.

Before Barry could voice any form or protest, he plunges his dick in one smooth movement, hitting his prostate blindly and continues to plunder into him. His thrusts are erratic and uneven, but he pushes in even harder as Barry spreads his legs so sweetly under him.

Neglecting Barry’s cock for so long, he reaches up and jacks him off loosely, the contact making him yelp and he’s whimpering for Chad to stop, ‘or else he’ll come’. Chad’s far too gone now, and they’ve been fucking for so long, so he ignores Barry’s pleas. Barry’s hands are scrambling for a hold on his wrist, trying to stop him. It’s oddly erotic for Chad, feeling the desperate hands on his wrist.

Forget Barry claiming that he’s some kind of whore or slut, at this moment he’s the man Chad’s been courting after for so long. The superior officer he follows, the partner he protects, and the man he loves. He slips out of his rough act and into his own skin. If Barry can bare himself, the least he could do is the same.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers softly, and Barry gasps in response, his clutch getting tighter, “Come for me, I need to see you come apart, just for me.”

He pounds in even harder, every time hitting his prostate, and Barry wails as he shoots his load all over his stomach and both his and Chad’s hand, his hole clenching tight around his cock.

Other situations if he was with a girl, he’d come when she comes, but not now, he’s still far from coming.

Barry’s hole is loose from the orgasm and he sags visibly, hands releasing their hold and drops to the sheets. Chad would stop, but he’s so worked up and continues to shove in. Barry’s making little noises at each thrust, the force pushing him up the bed.

Ying and Yang. The slackness of Barry and the stiffness of Chad.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Barry,” Chad chants. He builds up speed, and his voice is deep and breathless, “I’m going to come inside of you. You’re going to feel my come inside you, and it’s going to leak out of your beautiful body. I’m going to mark you.”

Sparks fire down his spine when Barry moans in what can only be interpreted as agreement. Chad drops his body on top of Barry, cradling him in his arms, hips still moving. He runs his hands through his hair and face as Barry encircles his arms around his neck.

Like a lover, Barry holds him back.

An epiphany rushes before Chad. His thrusts stutter in his momentary shock, and Barry shivers in his arms. When Barry said he’s offered his body to other men, he didn’t realize that Barry never wanted it. He wasn’t willing. It wasn’t consensual. And if it was, it wasn’t as close as now.

Holding onto Barry tighter, almost suffocating the other man, he slow his pace down and languidly thrusts in. Barry shivers more.

“What? What are you doing? Fuck me, pound into me,” He says. As sharp as his words are, his voice trembles, small and confused.

“No. I need you to feel me, Barry. All of me.”

“What are you talking about?” Barry asks, but doesn’t let go or run away.

“You’re mine.”

It’s not about the sex anymore. He wants all of Barry. He wants his body, his heart and his soul.  

Chicago, France, Brazil, and Taiwan, and Morocco. Too clear in the back of his head, the moments where they were more than partners, the intimacy of it all. Despite their close bonding during those missions, Barry’s been hiding from him all this time. There was a limp in Barry’s walk sometimes during a mission or after, the way Anthony touched his lip, the way some of the leaders leer at him as he walks down the halls of the base, and Chad’s never realized what it meant, until now.

Guilt covers him like a cold blanket and he makes a desperate noise and pushes in more. Barry holds on tighter.

Chad lifts his head up, Barry’s arms still around him, and looks down at the man. They stare into each other. No calculations, no walls to build, just the naked flesh between them, intertwined in more ways than one.

“I want all of you, Barry. You’re mine, and only mine. I’ll never let you go.”

Barry doesn’t reply back. Instead, he pulls him down and kisses him so tenderly on the lips, and whispers, “I know.”

That makes him come into the willing body, and Barry sighs.

\--

\--

They stay like that for a while, holding each other, listening to each other’s breaths, waiting for nothing. It’s still dark outside and the neon sign still glows.

Time passes and he reaches for the tissues on the bedside, his limbs feeling heavy after the orgasm. Managing to grab a handful, he wipes the come off of Barry’s belly, and cleans his cock, before tossing the wad on the ground.

Barry’s already asleep, his mouth slightly opened and breathing heavy. Nothing could have stopped him from passing out, the long day and rough sex afterwards, so he doesn’t blame him. There’s a piece of hair clinging to his forehead and he reaches out with an arm to brush it away, except pain shoots through Chad’s body and he hisses before collapsing on the bed next to Barry.

Shit.

Of course, his arm was injured earlier. And his leg. Not to mention the pain in his temple is firing up a storm.

Painkillers don’t last forever and he makes a mental note to take more before he decides to just sleep off the pain and left over adrenaline. He tucks himself and Barry under the sheets, miraculously not soiled too much from their previous activity.

Sparing one last look at the man before him - the open expression on his face, asleep, oblivious to the world around him, no weariness, no debauchery, just a man, just Barry - Chad lies on his back. Waves of ache laden through his body, comforting him, and then guides him to the darkness of unconsciousness.

\--

\--

By the time he emerges from his dreamless sleep, Barry’s already awake and sitting up on the bed, buttoning his blue shirt, trousers snug on his hips. The sun’s out and the blinds are open, illuminating the room with a dreamy cast of orange and yellow. Its dawn, but nearing morning, and some birds are already chirping quietly in the trees.

Peace.

A rare treat and a priceless moment for him to soak in. The pain from last night is settled in his bones and he feels weightless, yet heavy from the sleep. He moves his limbs to check for any damages, but finds none.

Usually he’s excellent at making himself quiet, but his stirring causes Barry to pause on a button and glance over his shoulder, before turning back and resuming. “Good morning,” is all he says.

“Barry,” he responds, but receives no answer, so he presses on, “About last night…”

“Oh yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“No, that’s not what I was saying,” Chad says, exasperated, and sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Last night, I said some things…”

“We can’t stay here,” Barry says hastily, and he stands up, running his hands down his crinkled shirt, trying to iron out the wrinkles, but to no avail, instead he bends down and grabs his tie, standing back up and looping it around his neck, “We’ve got to go.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying, we can’t stay here, they might know where we are. We have to keep on moving.”

“No, wait - stop Barry, listen to me,” He stands up himself and walks around the bed with an unnecessary speed, as if he’s trying to catch up with the other man. But it’s stupid that he does, because Barry can’t go anywhere without him, and he knows they’re safe for a few more days. So he grabs Barry’s wrist, stilling it in its movement to tie a knot.

He grabs onto Barry’s shoulders, “Listen to me,” he drops his voice, softer, “What we did last night, I said, that you’re going to be mine. I meant it.”

It takes a second before a flash of anger crosses Barry’s face and he jerks himself out of Chad’s grip, almost dislocating a shoulder in the recklessness.

“Bullshit!” He says, his voice a whisper, but all the outraged, and points an accusing finger at him, “You may say that, but you can’t have me. I’m not something you can own. So many others have said that and tried! You tell me to my face, that I’m going to be _yours_ , when I already gave my body up to other men. They have me piece-by-piece. You probably can manage to scrape up the leftovers, but that’s it.”

“Fucking hell Barry, you’re not-“

“I’m not what? I’m not a slut? I’m not some kind of old man that enjoys being pushed around? These men, they come and go, and you’ll go as soon as you figure out that you have better things in life than wasting it around with an old man like me.”

At the end of the rant, Barry’s already raised his voice to yelling, luckily, not yet waking up any sleeping neighbors, but Chad highly doubts there’s anyone else is in this dump.

“You’re not old and you’re not a slut. It doesn’t matter now, because you’ll never have to do those things again. You don’t need to give up your body to those other men. I’ll take you in. You’ll be mine and I’ll never leave you. So cut your fucking bullshit, cause nothing about that is true.”

Despite Chad’s protest, Barry angrily throws the unfinished tie down to the floor, his eyes ablaze, anger emitting from his body. He steps forward, pressing against Chad’s chest, thrusting a finger up. Their eyes lock.

“I don’t think you get it, because apparently it’s not drilling into that thick skull of yours. I’m already used up, I’m dry. There’s nothing you can take from me. You came too late. It’s all too late.” He steps back again, still maintaining the eye contact, before looking away and scrubbing uncomfortably at his goatee.

Even though there is truth to what he said, about the other men, about the piece-by-piece, and being old, Chad knows that he’s not too late. He rushes forward and reaches out to grab Barry by the arms, to shake him up, to _show_ him that he’s not too late, but stops because Barry flinches violently, as if Chad was going to hit him. A second of confusion passes through him before remembering that Barry didn’t give his body up _willingly_ to some men.

Sighing, he stops in his tracks; his arms back down at his sides.

“I’m not too late,” he says so softly that Barry looks up at him, curious.

“Naturally you are. You fucked me for the first time last night, and you had the audacity to claim that I am yours,” Barry laughs and shakes his head, “I have nothing to give to you.”

Stepping forward slowly, Chad manages to crowd Barry against the wall, his bandaged forehead touching the wall beside Barry’s head.

Dusty wallpaper, ugly and boring, is a contrast against Barry’s vibrant blue shirt and red tie, his pale skin, and blonde-brown hair. Sunlight, contouring his soft features, as it manages to filter past Chad’s massive body. All of the unknown men may have seen Barry’s naked body, every inch of his flesh, but they have never seen him like this, defenseless and exposed, no more sharpness in his eyes, just life running rampant and livid.

Chad has Barry in more ways than just his body.

They’ve tainted him with their careless marks and bruises, but Chad’s stained him with everything.

Lifting his head from the wall, he gently sets it against Barry’s. He reaches up, cradling Barry’s face, running the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone. Most likely unknowingly to Barry himself, but he tilts his face towards the contact, an unconscious movement, a craving for love.

The simple gesture is all the confirmation Chad needs to _know_. To understand that he’s definitely not too late and he can still pick up the pieces of Barry not yet claimed by other, careless men.

“Barry, look at me, please” he whispers, low, promising.

Barry looks up, broken, his eyes dart across Chad’s face, “I have nothing.”  

Chad looks back, vivid, catching his eyes, “Yes, you do. You said last night after patching me up, that I’ve known you better than anyone else. Those other men, they don’t know you like I do. They’ll never love you like I do. Last night, when I said that I’ll make you mine, I don’t mean your body…that’s not the only thing I want.”

The look Barry gives him is wary if anything. Chad continues, “I give you my word, on my life, that I will give you _everything_ that I am.”

Silence falls upon them both, only the sound of their hushed breathing. Barry draws in a shaky breath, and it sucks the life out of Chad. He gently presses his lips against Barry’s, catching it again. When he pulls back, Barry’s looking straight through him, calculating something deeper than his pulse.

“But I ask you do that same. You have to give me everything, Barry. I want _everything_ ,” Chad says, finally.

Barry bows his head in resignation, surrender, a mimic of a silent prayer. Chad holds his breath.

“Okay,” he says, “Okay.”

 

\--

\--

 

(Ten months ago in Russia, walking back to their motel room after a stakeout, for the first time Chad almost dies.

There’s snow drifting around them like the feathers in France and it’s freezing unlike Morocco. It catches in Barry’s hair, and his goatee. For Chad’s larger figure, his heavy coat and boots isn’t enough to keep his temperature stable, and it drops as he feels his vision distort the endless white scene. Managing only a few hundred meters more, Barry soon became a blurry splotch of brown in front of him and he passes out.

Once he wakes up, the first thing he sees is Barry’s face looking down at him. A bitter smile is on his face.

They’re still in the snow, and he’s in Barry’s lap.

‘I wasn’t out for long, was I?’ he manages.

‘No, I just caught you as you fell, you heavy, muscled freak. You’re welcome, by the way.’

He pauses.

‘If you thought you could die on me, think again. I’m not letting that happen.’

Chad laughs quietly, his breath coming out in a small white cloud, ‘No, I’m not leaving you.’

It was brief, but it was there, a flicker of something coming alive behind Barry’s eyes. The barrier comes back up as Barry shoves him off his lap. Chad goes down with a laugh into the snow. Before the other man could stand up, he grabs his wrist and pulls him down with him. It was more of a shriek when Barry falls down and lands next to him.

Snow melts slowly under their body heat as they wrestled each other. Grabbing a handful of snow, he shoves it down Barry’s shirt, and he shrieks again.

‘I’m going to kill you, you bastard!’ Barry says, all but giggling.

‘No, I told you, I’m not going to die,’ Chad responds and Barry stops. His smile slowly falling, but his eyes are warm, hotter than the heat his coat provided.

‘No, I suppose not.’

They get up, dusting off the snow.

Barry looks up at the grey sky in tranquil, fulfillment, a mimic of a hopeful prayer. Chad holds his breath.

He looks over his shoulder at Chad, ‘Let’s go,’ he says and holds out his hand, ‘it’ll keep us warm.’

‘Okay,’ Chad whispers and takes it, ‘Okay.’

Ten months ago in Russia, walking back to their motel room after a stakeout, for the first time Chad falls in love.)

\--

\--

They fuck two more times.

Lying side-by-side on the bed, Barry rolls over on top of Chad. He places his head on Chad’s chest, and snuggles in, sighing contently.

Minutes pass by before Barry sighs again and begins tracing patterns near his heart.

“You remember our first mission in Brazil?” Barry asks and props his head up to look at him.

Chad looks down and his heart skips, he swallows dryly, “Yeah, why?” He doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but he knows it’s nothing good. Barry’s hand stills in its motions.

“It was before you found me, before the torture. The first thing they did when they took me out of the van was push me down to the ground,” his breath hitches briefly, “At first I thought they were going to shove a gun to my head and interrogate me, ask me who I was and all that shit. But then they began ripping my jeans. I can’t remember how many days they…fucked me, but I remembered how I started to scream and how much I wanted to die.”

“Barry-” is all he manages, before gathering the smaller man in his arms. He buries his face into his hair, catching the smell of cheap shampoo and sex.

“But I held on, because I knew you were going to find me. And kill those motherfuckers,” Barry says, bitterly.

A part of Chad wants to ask, what the other times he was raped were, but it only punches him in the gut. Because he knows that it was probably during their other missions or even back at base after they failed and Chad was too blind to see.

 “Yeah, I killed them. And I will kill anyone else that touches you. You belong to me now, every part of your being,” Chad says, and takes Barry’s unmoving hand, and presses it against his heart, “And this is yours. Every part of me is yours.”

Barry’s fingers twitches before he leans up, kissing it.

Chad opens his mouth again, and for some reason, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry,” Barry smiles, and it makes his chest swell, knowing he’s the only one that can see it so genuine, “Don’t think you’ll get away with anything. You’re mine as much as I’m yours. And you told me already: no one loves me, not like you do. And no one loves you, like I do.”

Chad could only smile back, kissing the top of his head. “No, no one.”

 

 


End file.
